


It's the safest place in the city

by Pegship



Series: Castle Episodic [5]
Category: Castle
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Inner Dialogue, Missing Scene, s02e18 Boom!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:04:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pegship/pseuds/Pegship
Summary: For jstar1382, who asked for pretty words. Takes place during the events of Boom! (season 2, episode 18), when Kate comes to stay at Castle's loft.





	It's the safest place in the city

Kate's been to the loft before, of course. She's had the nickel tour; she knows where the bedrooms and bathrooms are. (She's oddly startled to find a laundry room - she can't imagine Castle doing anything that domestic.) This time, Alexis offers to lend her a nightshirt, gives her clean towels and a spare toothbrush, and assures her that if she hears voices ar night, it's probably Martha running lines or watching TV in her room.

Kate's looking forward to a hot shower (since hers was so rudely interrupted), but she spends some time sipping hot chocolate and trading quips with Castle, who responds to her expressions of thanks with, "It's what partners do. Right?". Eventually she gives him a smile and a "'Night, Castle," and takes herself off to the upstairs bathroom.

She decides on a long, hot bath, but it doesn't work its usual magic. When Kate emerges, she's clean, her body is soothed, but her brain won't shut up. Between anguish at the loss of her home and grim determination to puzzle out the twist in the Dunn case, she knows she's in for a long night of staring at the ceiling.

Wait, though. She knows that Castle stocks the kind of herb tea she likes, and she knows where he keeps it. With any luck, he'll be in bed (asleep! Katherine Beckett, I never) and she can brew a cup in solitude.

Kate pulls on the loaned pajamas and a pair of clean socks and forays down the hall, pausing on the landing. There's a tiny sparkle of a safety light in the kitchen, but there's no other sign of life, not even a murmur from Martha's room. Satisfied that the coast is clear, Kate descends and assembles kettle, cup, and tea.

Whatever nudges Castle into semi-consciousness is not his usual Alexis radar. There's no sound, no unidentified light, and when he sits up to peer through the bookcases, no movement in his office or nearby. Still, something woke him, and it's past midnight and before dawn, a time when all good souls should be sleeping. He rolls out of bed and moves through the office to stand in the doorway facing the living room.

In the light of the kitchen safety, he sees a slight figure seated on the couch, head lolling to one side against the back of the couch. Kate Beckett is curled up with her hands lying loosely in her lap, cradling an empty mug.

At first, Castle's charmed. She looks so comfortable, so easily accustomed to being here, in his house, on his couch. Then the sound of her bitterness comes back to him.

"Sir, I don't have a home."

And his own words.

"...in a secure building, with people who care about you."

Suddenly he wonders what she told her dad. She called him from the precinct as soon as she got there; she emerged from the conference room and dove right back into the case. Or tried to. Montgomery called her on her exhaustion and sent her off with Castle.

He knows she hates being managed, especially by him, so he's all the more thankful that she's right here where he can take care of her. Inobtrusively, of course.

At the moment, though, he can't imagine how stiff and sore she's going to be tomorrow, not just from her injuries but from sitting on the couch all night. Carefully, he leans down and extracts the mug from her limp hands and sets it quietly on the table; she doesn't stir or sigh. She's really out.

Good thing, too, Castle thinks as he even more carefully slides his hands under her knees and behind her shoulders, tipping her toward him so that she rolls slowly into his embrace, her arms curled, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. He straightens and gives himself a moment to savor the feeling of her slight weight in his arms, her soft breath against his neck, her hair spilling over his arm. She wouldn't let him carry her out of her burning apartment, but at least he can give her a lift to her bed.

Castle proceeds slowly to the stairs, won't risk tripping or stubbing a toe no matter how confident he is of his surroundings. Kate doesn't stir at all as he negotiates the first landing, then the second; he's relieved to see that her bedroom door stands slightly open. (It's hard to grip and turn a doorknob without dropping your passenger or knocking her on the head, as Alexis can attest.) He bumps it wider with his knee and sidles into the room.

He almost doesn't want to lay her down. He wishes he could stand there all night with her in his arms, comforting, being comforted. Reluctantly he bends his knees and, just as carefully as he rolled her into his grasp, rolls her gently onto the bed. She sighs and settles without waking, and he sighs and bends once more to press his lips lightly to her forehead before slipping out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.

Kate doesn't remember the interlude. Castle will never forget it.

She wakes the next morning well rested and ready to tackle the case.

He wakes the next morning determined that someday he'll have her in his arms again. Awake.


End file.
